Great Expectations Chapter 8 -- From Estella's POV
by Danu-chan
Summary: Okay, this was a school assignment, but I kinda liked it. Chapter 8 is when Estella and Pip first meet. I'm a total Estella/Pip-shipper! Oh yeah! I'm uncreative! Please R/R ^-^


Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Later that day, Miss Havisham was trying her jewels on me yet again. She fawned over me, telling me over and over how beautiful I was. I knew. While testing an amethyst against my long auburn hair, she spoke in her soft but rasping voice. 

"A boy is coming to play today," she said. 

"Another?" I asked. There had been another boy just last week. His name had been… Henry. He was very ordinary and ignorant. I despised him. But I despised all men; that is how Miss Havisham brought me up. 

"Yes, but this one I hope will be the last." She smiled evilly and continued, "His name is Philip, but has come to be called Pip."

"Pip?!" I laughed, "What a horrid name!"

Miss Havisham replied, "I know, but you must remember, Estella dear, you can break his heart."

Just then, the gate bell rang. 

"That will be Pip," said Miss Havisham, "Oh, and he will be accompanied by a man named Pumblechook. But I don't want to see him – just Pip. Go open the gate Estella."

To make sure it was them, I opened the window and called out, "What name?"

A husky, deep voice replied, "Pumblechook."

"Quite right," I vociferated and shut the window. Lifting my half-melted candle from the dark oak table, I sauntered down two sets of stairs before reaching the side door that we always used. I opened it and the bright sunlight hurt my eyes that were so used to the near pitch-black of the house. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I walked toward the gate. 

Standing outside was a young boy, whom I assumed Pip, and a grotesquely fat man, most likely Pumblechook. The boy looked about my age, possibly younger. He wore old brown corduroy pants, heavy black boots, and a brown corduroy jacket, which matched the pants, over a collared black shirt. His cheeks were rosy and he had a kind face that was split by a smile. He had curly blond hair that was topped with a hat that matched the pants and jacket. He was actually handsome in a way, but I couldn't let that show. I had to follow the way Miss Havisham had brought me up: take revenge on men; break their hearts; pretend I myself had no heart.

Pumblechook gestured towards Pip. "This," said he, "is Pip."

Really? I never would have guessed. I pretended this was news to me and replied, "This is Pip, is it?" I noticed Pip staring at me and turned to face him. "Come in, Pip."

Pip entered and Pumblechook began to follow. I stopped him at the gate. "Oh! Did you wish to see Miss Havisham?" I asked him.

"If Miss Havisham wished to see me," returned Pumblechook, looking discomfited.

I shoved him out and closed the gate in his face, saying, "Ah! But you see, she don't." I just smiled as he walked away with ruffled dignity.

Just before he turned the corner, he called to Pip, "Boy! Let your behavior here be a credit unto them which brought you up by hand!"

I ignored him and locked the gate. Turning around I noticed Pip looking intensely at the brewery in the back of Miss Havisham's yard. "You could drink without hurt all the strong beer that's brewed there now, boy," I informed him.

He shyly replied, "I should not think I could, miss."

"Better not try to brew beer there now, or it would turn out sour, boy; don't you think so?"

"It looks like it, miss."

I could tell he had no idea what he was talking about. However, I kept up the conversation for his sake. "Not that anybody means to try, for that's all done with, and the place will stand as idle as it is, till it falls. As to strong beer, there's enough of it in the cellars already to drown the manor house."

"Is that the name of this house, miss?" Pip asked.

"One of its names, boy."

"It has more than one, then, miss?"

"One more. Its other name was Satis; which is Greek, or Latin, or Hebrew, or all three – or all one to me – for enough."

"Enough House!" he exclaimed, "That's a curious name, miss."

"Yes, but it meant more than it said," I explained, "It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house could want nothing else. They must have been easily satisfied in those days, I should think. But don't loiter, boy." 

I turned and led him along the path to the small side door. The reason we didn't use the front door is that is was blocked by two chains. Opening the door, I entered and paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the blackness, then I lifted the candle I had left on the hall table. Gesturing for Pip to follow, I walked along the corridors and stairs I knew so well. At last, we came to Miss Havisham's door. I told Pip to go in.

Pip looked anxious and quietly responded, "After you, miss."

"Don't be ridiculous, boy!" I blurted out, "I am not going in." I pivoted and walked in the other direction, towards my room. "Me, go in?" I thought to myself, "Why spend more time than was needed with that horrible old woman for whom I was a puppet?" I knew this. I had for quite a while, actually. It was obvious. But I had decided to let it go for a while… until I was hurt by it in some way. 

I had reached my room. Upon opening the door, light and the smell of fresh air welcomed me. I usually kept the window open and often went to my room for a change in the musty, dank, and dark world of Satis House. Now, I sank onto my bed as I thought aloud. "Satis – Enough. Enough of what? Certainly not air. Or light for that matter… Or freedom… Or anything." I sighed. "Insipid, vapid old house. As soon as I'm old enough to-"

"ESTELLA!" a voice rang through the empty corridors, shattering my thoughts. It was Pip. What could possibly be wanted of me now? Was he still afraid to go into Miss Havisham's room? Groaning, I got up, lifted my candle, and walked towards the room. I saw Pip standing outside, and thought my prophecy to be correct, but the door was open. I brushed past him and walked over to Miss Havisham, who was sitting on her chair as usual. 

Instead of telling me why I had been paged, she began to try her jewels on me again. "Your own, one day, my dear, and you will use it well," she spoke as she tried the effect of an emerald upon my bosom and against my hair. Finally, she added, "Let me see you play cards with this boy."

I was appalled. "With this boy! Why, he is a common labouring-boy!"

"Well?" Miss Havisham whispered very quietly, so only I could hear, "You can break his heart."

I sighed and addressed Pip. "What do you play, boy?"

"Nothing but Beggar my Neighbour, miss." 

"Beggar him," Miss Havisham said to me.

Pip and I sat on the floor facing each other, a deck of cards between us. I picked up the deck and shuffled the way a bridge is formed when the cards are put together. Then I dealt them out. I straightened my pile of cards, but I noticed Pip left his in disarray. I began by turning over my first card and we continued in usual "Beggar my Neighbour" fashion. However, when I turned over a knave, Pip cried out "Jack!" and waited for me to pay him his four cards. 

"Jack?" I exclaimed, then turned to Miss Havisham. "He calls the knaves, jacks, this boy! And what coarse hands he has! And what thick boots!" I added.

Pip looked down, presumably at his hands and boots.

We continued the game, Pip taking care to call every knave by its correct name. I won, of course, and Pip dealt the next game. I waited for him to make a mistake and, when he didn't, I denounced him anyway for being a stupid, clumsy, labouring-boy. I was very proud of myself. 

Miss Havisham remarked to Pip, "You say nothing of her. She says so many hard things of you, yet you say nothing of her. What do you think of her?"

"I don't like to say," Pip stammered. What a considerate boy.

"Tell me in my ear," Miss Havisham muttered, bending down.

I couldn't hear what Pip was saying, but Miss Havisham replied, "Anything else?" three times. Then, she said, "And never see her again, though she is so pretty?" So Pip thought I was pretty? I smiled. Miss Havisham ended her and Pip's conversation with, "You shall go home soon. Play the game out."

We finished the game. I won again, throwing my cards on the table. Pip was so easy to beat it almost wasn't worth it.

Miss Havisham began talking to Pip again. "When shall I have you here again? Let me think." She pursed her lips.

"Today is Wedn-" Pip began.

Miss Havisham brushed him off with a wave of her hand. "There, there! I know nothing of the days of the week; I know nothing of the months of the year. Come after six days. You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pip replied cautiously.

"Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, and let him roam and look about him while he eats. Go, Pip."

I stood, lifted the candle, and led Pip out, muttering to myself the whole way, "Estella do this, Estella do that," and sighing. I opened the side door and let Pip outside. "You are to wait here, you boy," I told him. I closed the door and walked off to the kitchen. There, I took a piece of bread from the breadbox. Opening the ice box, I took a slab of pork and put it over the fire for a little to cook it. Then, I poured a small mug of beer, gathered everything on a tray, and brought it out to Pip. Maybe it was because I treated him so cruelly, or maybe it was something else, but Pip's eyes began to water. The thrill that it had been most likely me who had caused them took me over and I grinned. I had broken his heart just like Miss Havisham had wanted. 

Pip held back his tears, though, and looked me in the eyes. I looked contemptuously at him, but I knew I had hurt him, so I felt happy, in a way. I turned and left. I walked back up to my room and thought as I let Pip wander the grounds for a time. I thought about my success of wounding him, how well his visit had gone, how Miss Havisham must appreciate me more now, as I had injured the self-esteem of yet another young boy. I smirked to myself and sighed for the hundredth time. 

Soon afterward, I got up and took up the keys to let Pip out. He noticed my approach and met me at the gate. His face looked so sad as I smiled triumphantly at him. When I opened the gate, he slipped out as fast as he could. Before he left, though, I reached out and touched his arm. He turned. 

"Why don't you cry?" I asked him.

"Because I don't want to."

It was a lie. "You do. You've been crying till you are half-blind, and you are near crying again now." So what if it was an exaggeration? It didn't stop the hurt. I laughed contemptuously at him and slammed the gate. My giggles turned to slight tears, however, as I ran back toward the house, my insides convoluted with sorrow and pride.


End file.
